Did You Know Her Well?
by thevixendixon
Summary: Thoughts at the funeral of Rogue. Not exactly what you'd expect. It's good. At least I liked it. I'm not gonna beg for reviews, but it'd be nice.


A/N: This is a very personal story for me. I wasn't planning on putting it up but I did in the hopes that maybe someone somewhere will get something out of it. 

Disclaimer: I don't own x-men: evolution or CSI.

* * *

What am I doing here? I didn't even know the girl.

What was her name again? Her name was Rogue. I know the name but there is no face to connect it to. It's only after some kid pulls out a picture of her that I put the two together.

I had seen her once or twice in the cafeteria. Actually, she was hard to miss. She had a presence. Always dressed in some shade of black or other. She must've dyed her hair once a week or so because her roots would never show.

I think back. I was walking with my brother and she came up to talk with us…well… him. They were friends…I think. It was always Rogue this and Rogue that with him. But not anymore I guess.Wait. They weren't friends. Not at all. He'll probably think twice before thinking those things again. But, he barely even knew her. She couldn't have been what he said she was. The guilt he must feel.

My brother. My brother is in college this year. He's out there handling it alone. All by himself. Does he even know that she's gone?

I wish he were here. It would give me a reason to be here.

Why **am** I here?

Those must be her friends up there in front.

Did she have friends?

Hey. That's Amara up there. Rogue must've lived at that mansion too.

The wind shifts. It brings with it the sickening smell of queen annes lace flowers. I loved it when they grew in the backyard. But not anymore. I'm never going to enjoy this smell again.

How come no one's crying? This is the most festive funeral I've ever been to. But maybe it's a good thing. I mean look at all the people she's brought together.

There goes a tear. It's from the red head. I think she was MVP of the girls' soccer team last year. Oh, yeah. It's Jean Grey. How could I have forgotten Jean Grey? Everyone knows her. I guess my mind isn't at its best right now.

I used to wish I had the courage to do some of the things she did. I still do. Maybe even more so now.

I feel so bad for all these people here. Blood is blood, but there's something special in a friendship. It looks like she had a lot of friends. Wow. There are no other words for what I feel towards them. It's just... it's too much.

I man walks up to me. "What happened?" he whispers. What happened! I feel like punching him right in the face and telling him that if he wants to entertain himself by hearing about gruesome and interesting ways to die he should watch CSI and that maybe, just maybe, at a place like this at a time like this, maybe he should show some respect dammit! I don't do it. "She died," I say. Then I take a few steps forward and turn my back to him.

He didn't care. He was just curious.

There's a woman standing in the back, near the exit. If Rogue was here right now I imagine that's where she would be standing. I've never seen her before. Her eyes are so sad.

I can already feel the void she left behind. Every time I walk into the cafeteria it'll be different. I'll never see Amara or Jean or any of them the same way again. And whenever I talk to my brother we'll have to be extra careful of what we say and when we talk about her we'll talk about her differently, when we don't just tiptoe around it.

"What a shame." A conversation begins to my left. An older man addresses a girl who looks about Rogue's age. "You've got to be careful these days.…Do **you** drive?" "No." "That's good." I should've known they would use it this way. She didn't do this. She wasn't responsible for it. There was no stopping this.

"That one right there is the brother." A young blonde kid says to my right. I look at the guy he points out. He just stands there with his hands in his pockets and a small smirk across his face. People grieve in their own ways I guess. His eyes look different though. They don't look like they belong on him. They look like they belong on that woman in the corner.

The machine starts lowering the concrete top. A woman sobs uncontrollably not far from me. Some go to comfort her, but really, what is there to do? A tall blonde girl holds Amara a little tighter. Amara takes her free right hand and reaches out for the left hand of some guy with his head down. Bobby I think his name is.

There is a younger boy, maybe twelve, on the other side. How did I not notice him before? He stands off, alone, by the machine. He must take after her.

Rogue. There's a pang in my stomach as I think it. There always will be.

A tear escapes from my right eye. I don't care. I let it fall.

"Did you know her well?" I look up and see the kind face of a brown haired teen. He looks familiar, even though I know I've never seen him before, as if he may have been a friend in another life. But in this one I settle for a caring stranger. Well, he's not really a stranger…not anymore. Not after today.

"Yeah."

The engine stops. The lid closes shut. That's it.

* * *

Okay. So I don't know what flowers they are, this is just what someone told me once. And in case you couldn't get it, the woman in the corner is Mystique, her brother is Kurt, the tall blonde is Tabby, and the kid on the other side is Jaime. I was going to do Logan and Remy and stuff, but this is from a random onlookers pov and well, he/she notices what he/she notices. I hope you liked it. Review or don't. Whatever you feel like doing. 


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